


Knee to Earth

by ficbear



Category: Warriors Orochi, Warriors: Legends of Troy, Zill O'll
Genre: Anal Sex, Breathplay, Fight Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-25
Updated: 2012-04-25
Packaged: 2017-11-04 07:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/391388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficbear/pseuds/ficbear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the fight progressed, he found himself distracted and clumsy, relying on near misses and lucky strikes like some unseasoned youth. Whenever their gazes met, a little more of Achilles's skill seemed to melt away, and before long he was knocked to the ground, disarmed and held at the point of Nemea's spear. And now Achilles's own body had become the spoils of victory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Knee to Earth

"Damn you, you barbarian wretch!" Achilles growls, pushing back against his foe. The movement only impales him harder on Nemea's cock, and the feeling of it piercing him drives another groan from his lips. "Damn you to Hades!"

Nemea laughs, twisting his hand tightly in Achilles's hair. "You're defeated. Why don't you accept it and submit gracefully?"

Lust and fury too fierce for words blaze through Achilles, and he snarls like an enraged beast beneath his opponent. The humiliation of being fucked on his hands and knees like some pitiful slave-boy is almost too much, and yet he gains a strange kind of pleasure from being beaten by Nemea, not by sorcery or trickery, but through sheer power and skill. As much as his pride blanches at the admission, Achilles can't deny the hunger his body feels for sensation, for the pain of defeat and the relentless force of those sharp hips slamming against his ass. Nemea had been unexpectedly direct in his approach, pulling Achilles into position and oiling him up with surprising speed, and now he displays the same sparseness, the same bare efficiency, in every stroke he gives the defeated warrior.

"You fought well, Achilles." The words almost sound affectionate, as if he were Chiron praising his pupil. "But for all your strength, you simply aren't my equal."

It had begun as a simple argument about the superiority of the sword over the spear, and had escalated quickly into a heated duel. Achilles had expected to win, of course, but he'd known from the start that it wouldn't be easy. As the fight progressed, he found himself distracted and clumsy, relying on near misses and lucky strikes like some unseasoned youth. Whenever their gazes met, a little more of Achilles's skill seemed to melt away, and before long he was knocked to the ground, disarmed and held at the point of Nemea's spear.

And now Achilles's own body had become the spoils of victory.

"Next time you won't be so lucky…" Glancing back at Nemea, Achilles fixes him with a furious glare. "Next time, victory will be mine!"

"So many complaints, Achilles, and yet your body refutes every single one…" Nemea laughs, and reaches beneath the defeated warrior to take hold of his cock, squeezing it roughly.

The touch of that firm hand overwhelms his self-control, and a raw, honest moan falls from Achilles's lips. The sound acts as a rallying cry, spurring him on, and he twists away from Nemea's grip with a grunt of frustration. It might be a risky move, but Achilles cares nothing for the danger now, and with a fierce growl he lashes out at his opponent, bringing his elbow back to slam into Nemea's face. The blow connects perfectly, sending Nemea reeling back and giving Achilles enough time to round on him, ready for the next attack. His foe is too fast, though, and even as Achilles launches himself forward, Nemea is already stepping into his lunge, and bringing that armoured forearm up brutally hard against Achilles's throat. Crashing to the floor, he has no time to react before Nemea is on top of him, crushing the breath from him with what seems like unlimited, unnatural strength. Nemea's arm presses down mercilessly as it cuts off Achilles's air, and the pain that wells up inside him is tight and hard and sharp, too potent to resist. Achilles's hips jerk up, grinding his cock against Nemea's own, belying every ounce of rage that burns in his eyes.

"I'll best you with my bare hands, lion…" Achilles hisses, barely able to choke out each word as he wraps his hands around Nemea's neck. "Just as Heracles did to your namesake."

His fingers strive to crush his opponent's throat, and against any other man they would meet little resistance, but some hidden strength seems to render Nemea all but impervious to the attack. That cool, slight smile remains no matter how Achilles strains, and the slow, grinding motion of Nemea's hips against his persists throughout it all, even as the edges of his vision begins to darken and blur. Achilles feels himself slipping, ushered out by the wreath of darkness that seems to seethe and swirl around Nemea's form, and his hands fall away from that pale throat as if they moved of their own accord. At last Nemea pulls back, and air rushes into Achilles's lungs like a raging sea.

"Will you accept your defeat now?" Nemea hauls Achilles's legs up roughly, and impales the defeated warrior again in one hard stroke. "Or do you still intend to fight me?"

"You might have beaten me in combat, but I'll surpass you in pleasure." Achilles smirks and tips his hips up, meeting the brutal thrusts of Nemea's cock with equal vigour. "You'll be spent long before I even begin to tire."

"You are forgetting your place."

Nemea's tone is cold and strange, and the menace in his words sends a faint shiver of excitement through Achilles's flesh. Those pale eyes bore into him, sharper and harder than any spear, and Achilles allows himself a smirk of satisfaction. Finally Nemea's gaze is fixed entirely on him, finally Achilles holds the whole of his attention, basking in it like a beast in the sun. Nemea slams into him with all the power and fury of a demon, and soon Achilles's groans of pain and pleasure are mixed with triumphant laughter.

"You're as savage as any other beast now, aren't you?" He pushes up against the tight hands on his wrists, and tenses around Nemea's cock, squeezing him as firmly as if he held that hard shaft in his hand. "Take what you want, then, lion. See if you can break me."

Nemea pushes him effortlessly over onto his side, arranging him so that each thrust strikes deeper than ever. One hand grips the back of his neck tightly, pinning him down firmly as the other slides down to grasp Achilles's cock. The touch of that cruel hand is heavy and rough, and Achilles lets the sounds of pleasure spill freely from his lips now, urging Nemea on with a torrent of groaned curses. For all his boasting, Achilles's own stamina has seeped away somehow, and under Nemea's attentions he comes as quickly as a callow youth. With a shout as fierce as any battle cry, Achilles bucks and thrusts into his opponent's hand, damning Nemea with every word as his come spills across that merciless hand.

Hauled onto his hands and knees again before the last convulsion of his climax has passed, Achilles finds himself lacking the energy to protest even slightly. Firm hands grip his waist, smearing Achilles's skin with his own come, holding him in place as Nemea begins to fuck him again. The force of it is overwhelming, and each brutal stab of Nemea's cock grinds away a little more of Achilles's pride. Bracing himself against the floor, he clenches his fists and steels himself to withstand every last surge of raging lust that crashes against him. Those sharp hips batter against him relentlessly, faster and harder with each stroke, and at last Nemea gives a harsh cry of satisfaction and buries his cock in Achilles's ass with one final vicious thrust.

Heat smoulders inside Achilles, and the glorious ache of exhaustion throbs in every muscle of his body. Pushing himself up to his feet, he gives Nemea a smirk only slightly tempered by defeat. "Perhaps I'll concede that your technique is superior after all." He folds his arms, suppressing a shudder of pain as his bruises make themselves known. "For now, anyway."

Nemea looks at him silently for a moment, and the darkness in his eyes slowly softens into warmth. "How gracious of you, Achilles."


End file.
